


Always

by ughfitz (wokemeup)



Series: Bed Talks [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, I had some feels that just would not go away, post 4x02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 11:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8160553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wokemeup/pseuds/ughfitz
Summary: Fitz doesn't expect to see Jemma in their bed when he returns from his mission. Post 4x02





	

**Author's Note:**

> 1) This episode gave me all sorts of feels 2) Jemma feels responsible for everything (even when it's out of her control), and 3) I'm miffed that fitzsimmons didn't really say much (in terms of goodbye) when Fitz left for the mission, so I addressed that and well...now you have this fic.

 

_ 6:12 PM  _

 

Looking at his watch as he strode into their shared room, only at the last minute did Fitz happen to catch the lumpy form in the middle of the bed before unceremoniously chucking his backpack over the bed and onto the floor. 

 

By precisely 7:45 AM every morning, their bed was carefully made by Jemma only to be disturbed when they labored back into it, usually some time after eleven, much later than it currently was. Therefore, the soft lump that rose up down ever so slightly should  _ not _ have been there.

 

Shrugging off his jacket, Fitz quietly crept over to the bed and reached over to pull down the covers ever so slightly.  Jemma’s familiar brown hair was not in its usual combed state, but rather mussed and tangled. Confused as to why she was lying in bed curled up like a small cat swathed in the blankets, all his other thoughts evaporated when he heard a small sob escape her lips. 

 

Reaching to further pull down the sheets, Fitz panicked when he saw her tear stained face, her eyes squeezed together tightly when he reached to touch her as if she were willing the world to disappear. Without her words or her telling eyes, his mind desperately searched for a reason behind Jemma’s upset state.

 

Admittedly, the last few months had not been as smooth sailing as he, they, had hoped. Their time was strained, Daisy’s antics were still weighing down on them all, Jemma seemed to always be busy, and just the general life of a secret agent was no walk in the park. Today had been only slightly more difficult than normal, but he was certain she hadn’t yet heard word about Daisy or even his attack by the ghost...thing. And really, if he was being honest, a ghost attack was near the bottom of the list of dangerous things that he had encountered.

 

It was this list, or rather lack thereof, of reasons for Jemma to be so distraught that concerned him. Slowly and somewhat cautiously, Fitz moved his hand towards Jemma’s head and carefully stroked her hair, a desperate attempt to soothe her. Almost as though she hadn’t noticed him, her quiet sobs continued on, her eyes still closed, his confusion and concern still high.

 

Beyond thankful that Coulson had approved the newer sleeping arrangements before the new director had come in, Fitz laid his body alongside Jemma’s, bringing his free arms to wrap around to the front of her body, his other hand continuing to rub little circles. For the time being, he simply laid there with her, knowing that whenever she was ready to talk, she would. 

 

It was times like these, when they were blocked from the busyness of the outside world and it was just the two of them, that Fitz dared to imagine a life outside of the confines of the dark brick building. He let his mind wander, images of their small cottage and her smile and the sound of her carefree laugh filtered in, his heart skipping a beat for what could be. He was brought back to reality when he realized that Jemma’s shudders had quieted and her hand, the one that she been cradling around her midsection as though she were trying to hold herself together, now gripped his arm.

 

“Jemma” he cooed out, “Hey, there.” Letting out a shaky breath, she spoke no words but rather turned her body on her back so that she had a better view of his face, his eyes. Looking down deep into the depths of her warm amber eyes that were tinged with red and worry, he leaned down to place a kiss onto her forehead.

 

Resting in that spot, her body tucked into his, her scent enveloping him in warmth and familiarity like a hot cup of tea on a cold day, they simply held onto one another.

 

Some time later, Fitz felt Jemma begin to stir a little before she mumbled something out, her words muffled by his shirt. Leaning back a little, his arms still wrapped around her, “What was that?” he whispered.

 

Taking one big breath, she looked up at him and spoke the words that broke his heart. “May...I failed. Again.” 

 

\---

 

When they had first met, several months or so after getting over their initial awkward beginning, they were holed up in Jemma’s small dorm room sprawled on her bed fervently studying for a final (at least she was). It was one of the more challenging of their finals, not intellectually, of course, but hard in that they had to study for the unexpected. 

 

It was for their Intro to S.H.I.E.L.D. class, a freshman orientation course of sorts, where they were drilled on history (easy), stats (also easy), and a very basic field ops drill ( _ not _ easy). Jemma, of course, had already made an assortment of color-coded flashcards and while they had exhausted a better part of the day over preparing for the history and stats section, they were now unsuccessfully attempting to master the unexpected. Jemma had several charts laid out on the bed all describing different scenarios and the routes to various outcomes.  _ Just think of it like one of those quizzes from a magazine. If you answer ‘yes’ to this, then you follow this arrow end over here! _ Of course, saying that was easier than actually doing it. 

 

Looking over at the clock and realizing that it was well into the early hours of the morning, Fitz leaned back into the soft blankets not even the slightest bit surprised that she’d somehow managed to make the standardized bed warm and homey, and looked over at her.

 

He smiled, her studying face was cute and sent a flurry of nervous churns to his stomach, a feeling he promptly decided to ignore. Feeling his eyes getting heavier and heavier, the next time he blinked, the light was shining through her small room, and Jemma was nestled against him, their legs tangled in a warm vine.

 

When they eventually took the test, Jemma was devastated by the results. She’d shushed him, biting her lip and mumbling to him that it wasn’t the score that was the problem, it was rather what she had missed that had her in such a sour mood. 

 

In the scenario, she had run through the patient’s charts, mentally scratching off different illnesses before deciding upon option C, Blood-borne disease. Once decided, she meticulously wrote out the proper ways to help treat the patient and had even conjured up a more effective antiserum to help speed up the recovery of the patient. It was perfect, and she told Fitz she wouldn’t be surprised if she was given some extra credit for it.

 

Instead, when she received the exam back, her neatly filled-in C bubble was crossed off with a jarring slash of red ink, and B, Influenza virus, was instead circled. At the bottom of the page in their professor’s neat writing was written:  _Miss Simmons, be sure to look at the entire situation next time. You’ll notice that your patient skipped getting their normal yearly shots, and their symptoms aligned with influenza. In this case, your patient would have had complications from the administering of the wrong drug, mostly likely resulting in death. While your attempt at diagnosing was thorough and well thought out, you missed a simple detail which resulted in the harming of your patient. _

 

For days Jemma remained distant and silent.

 

\---

Lying in their bed, her words about May echoing in his mind, he couldn’t help but think of that moment back at the Academy and all of the other times Jemma had thought she had failed her patient. He knew she carried so much weight on her shoulders, so much guilt and burden, it made his own heart heavy and his eyes burn with unshed tears.

 

Wrapping his arms tighter around her, Jemma’s sobs began to increase, her pain his pain. Some time later, her sobs did eventually subside and she quietly explained to him the situation with May and how she was tired,  _ so _ tired of it all.  _ I just, I just wish we could escape somewhere, go to our cottage and forget everything. _ The longing and pain in her eyes and voice was so intense, Fitz had to look away, if only so that he could be strong enough for the both of them. 

 

He murmured soft words of encouragement and adamantly told her that she was not at fault and that she had not failed and one day they would get that cottage and they would live out their life like some characters from a fairytale. 

 

He looked down at her, the yellowish orange glow of their bedside lamp casting shadows over her face, accentuating the dark bruise-like circles under her eyes. 

 

Tracing the tip of his forefinger down the curve of her noise, the pillow of her cheeks, the soft wisps of her eyelashes and the delicate lines of her lips, he was awed at the skin underneath his finger that was somehow able to seal in an incredibly strong and kind soul. 

 

Knowing that she was only distracting herself, and maybe it was good for her sanity, she asked him about his day, his normally filtered words spilling out easily in the sanctity of their little room. She froze underneath him when he told her about nearly getting shot, and silent tears streamed down her face when he told her about Daisy. Through it all, they clung to each other, their bodies thirsty for the close contact. 

 

When Fitz looked up at the little clock, he was shocked to find that it was somehow almost 10:30. Rolling onto his back, his arms pulling her with him, they both chuckled when his stomach growled out in protest from the lack of food. Looking over at her and giving her a small peck on the lips, he heaved himself up and prepared himself to go and get them something that resembled dinner. 

 

Sitting still for a moment, he was about stand up when Jemma suddenly placed her hand on his shoulder.

 

“Promise me,” she whispered, “You’ll come back to me?”

 

“Jemma,” he began as he squeezed her hand, “I’m just getting us something to eat,” his attempt to lighten the mood falling flat. 

 

“Please…” she choked out. 

 

Turning around to face her, he looked into her eyes, wide, brown, and full of a sense of urgency, and with all of the sincerity and depth he could muster, he whispered back “Always.”

 

The next day as Fitz packed for a routine mission, Jemma prepared for a separate, unplanned, mission beside him in silence. When they finished, they walked to their respective transportations with their hands clasped tightly. 

 

Jemma looked up at Fitz, gave him a watery smile, and called out a gentle but firm “Come back to me?”

 

Equal in his conviction, Fitz replied, “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thanks to Elyssa, writeonthrough, for looking over this and dealing with my ramblings!
> 
> Thank you all for checking this out :) Feel free to chat with me over on [Tumblr](http://ughfitz.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
